Tutus, Tiaras, and Tantrums
by a.lakewood
Summary: Post-Sympathy for the Devil. Sam and Dean find themselves back at John's storage unit hoping to find something that might help them in the coming fight. As weird and creepy as their lives have been, Dean stumbles upon something even weirder and creepier.


**Title:** Tutus, Tiaras, and Tantrums  
**Author:** alakewood  
**Warnings:** Spoilers for _Bad Day at Black Rock_ and minor ones for _No Rest for the Wicked, Yellow Fever, Lucifer Rising_ and, possibly, _Sympathy for the Devil._  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~2500  
**Summary:** Post-_Sympathy for the Devil._ Sam and Dean find themselves back at John's storage unit hoping to find something that might help them in the coming fight. As weird and creepy as their lives have been, Dean stumbles upon something even _weirder and creepier._  
**Disclaimer:** As always, I own nothing.

**oxoxo**

Sam flipped open the flaps of a cardboard box and watched as the layer of dust particles that had settled atop it floated, glinting, through the bright beam of his flashlight. He peered into the box, finding nothing but yellowed newspaper clippings. Old research from old hunts. "Maybe we should just try to find the Colt," he called to Dean as he reclosed the box.

"Yeah," Dean called back, browsing through random items on a multi-tiered shelving unit back by John's collection of cursed objects. "Let me get out my phone and we can give Bela a call." He paused. "Oh, wait. She's _dead_."

Sam rolled his eyes, opening another box.

"I saw that."

Sam peeked around the corner of the section of shelves he stood behind and saw Dean standing at the far back of the unit with his back to him. "I'm sure," he said to himself.

"I _heard_ that."

And there was no possible _way_ that Dean had, unless his brother had developed bionic hearing recently. Maybe it was a touched-by-an-angel kind of thing.

Dean grinned to himself, knowing it always irked Sam when he did stuff like that. _Of course_ there was no way that Dean had seen or heard anything Sam said or did, but after twenty-plus years of having a little brother constantly mocking him behind his back, he had a pretty good idea how Sam would respond to his sarcasm.

Dean swept the beam from his flashlight along the bottom shelf where the overhead florescent lights failed to illuminate anything. He crouched down to get a better look at what was stashed there, collecting dust: a couple of curse boxes, a snow globe, and a Victorian-style porcelain doll. Unable to stifle his curiosity, he reached for the doll.

Her face was pale, bright blue eyes reflecting dully as they stared at some point above Dean's shoulder. Her reddish-blonde hair had lost its sheen, the curls not much more than a frizzy, matted mess. The pale green silk or satin dress she wore was in worse condition – the lace was torn and the fabric was stained a brownish-gray nearly everywhere. And, she was creepy as _hell._

And the fact that John had it, well. That was just strange. "Whatcha got there, Dean?" Sam asked, smirk evident in his voice, half a second before his shadow fell across Dean and the doll.

"Just looking." He put the doll back where he'd found it and stood up straight to his full height. "Dad kept a lot of weird shit in here. Did you find anything helpful?"

Sam didn't lose the smirk as he replied, "Nope. You?"

"Nope." He side-stepped past Sam, through the small gap his brother had left between himself and the shelves, and started for the door.

"You don't want to take your new friend with you?"

Without looking back, knowing full well that Sam was wearing a stupid, shit-eating grin, Dean called back, rather unoriginally, "Shut up, Sam!"

**oxo**

Sam was startled awake by a short, high-pitched, terrified and confused cry. It _sounded_ like Dean, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard anything come out of Dean's mouth that was terrified and high-pitched or could be classified as a cry. Except that time he got the ghost sickness, but he'd been under a sort of spell then...Sam quickly fumbled for the switch on the lamp on the nightstand between their beds. "Dean?" Sam questioned, squinting against the sudden brightness.

There was a quiet whimper from the other bed. "Sam?" Quiet and unsure.

"You, okay, man?" Sam slid his feet out from under the blankets and flung his legs over the side of the bed as he leaned towards his brother.

Dean sniffled, his breaths short and halted like he was trying not to burst into tears. His chin quavered. "_No._ And I'm-I'm not a _man_."

"Uh, Dean? What did you touch in Dad's storage unit this morning?"

Dean's chin trembled again, mouth turning into a frown, and he hiccuped. "I don't-don't know what you're talking about."

"Dean?"

"Why am I so big? Why am I so _hairy?_ What happened to me?"

Sam reached for his phone, pressed and held down the '3' button. "What is it, Sam?" came Bobby's gruff voice halfway through the third ring.

"Dean. He's confused. And _crying_-"

"No, I'm _not_," Dean said indignantly, huffing out a breath.

Sam glanced at his brother. "Just stay right there. I'll be right back." He headed into the bathroom, keeping the door open just wide enough to seen where Dean sat on his bed, knees and blankets drawn to his chest. "Sorry," he said to Bobby.

"Dean's _crying?_" Bobby questioned incredulously.

"Nearly. We went to Dad's storage unit today and I think he might've touched something he shouldn't have."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. I'll have to go back tomorrow."

"I'll look through the information I've got on what's inside those curse boxes. Give me a call if you find anything out, okay?"

"Sure thing, Bobby. Thanks." Sam disconnected the call and left the bathroom. He took a seat on the edge of his bed and faced Dean. "Look. I'm not sure what's going on here, but I'll figure it out, okay?"

After a long sniff, Dean nodded. "Okay," he said, voice muffled by the blanket pressed to his mouth.

"Let's just go back to bed and we'll deal with this in the morning."

"Okay."

Sam reached over and turned off the lamp, eliciting another tiny sob from Dean. "What is it?"

"I'm-I'm afraid of the dark."

Sam scoffed. "Are you _serious?_" he questioned rhetorically, under his breath.

"Can-can I stay over th-there with you?" Dean's voice sounded so _small._

"What?"

"Please?"

"I. Okay?" Sam switched the light back on and lifted his blanket, not quite believing what he was doing.

Once the light was off again, Dean snuggled right up to Sam's back, head buried between his younger brother's shoulders. "'Night, Sammy."

Sam just lay completely still, trying to figure out what Dean could've- "The doll," he said suddenly. "I bet you it was the doll."

"Doll?" Dean asked. "Miss Rose? I saw her today."

Sam climbed out of the bed and flipped the lamp on yet again. "Come on. We've gotta get back to Dad's storage unit."

Dean sat up. "But why? I'm sleepy."

"Come on, Dean."

"No!" Dean cried, flinging himself back down to the mattress. "I'm not going. And you can't _make me_."

Sam tipped his head back, groaning, "_Come on._" He covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes with their heels. "I'll get you pie?"

Dean exhaled loudly out of his nose. "With ice cream?" He threw back the blankets and slid to the edge of the mattress.

"Okay."

"Fine."

**oxo**

Sam eased the Impala around the corner onto Rover Hill and into a sea of swirling red and blue lights. A police officer in the road stopped the car with a palm and rounded to the driver's side. "What's going on?" Sam asked when he'd rolled down the window.

"Some kids staged a 'Bum Fight.' Trying to get the area cleared out now," the officer said.

"Do you know how long that'll be?"

She glanced inside the car at Dean, who was staring out the windshield with wide eyes. "An hour, maybe."

"When do I get my pie?" Dean questioned in a loud whisper.

"Uh, thank you," Sam said dismissively to the officer before rolling his window back up and turning around to head in the direction opposite Castle Storage.

"When do I get my pie?" Dean repeated, slightly more annoyed.

"Calm down."

Dean folded his arms across his chest and slumped down in his seat, bottom lip dangerously close to pouting. "You're mean."

"We're going." He pulled off the road at the first open place he saw – a Super Wal-Mart. They had an hour to kill before they could go back to the storage unit, might as well get Dean his pie and stock up on supplies while they had the time. He grabbed a cart and had to all but run after Dean when his brother took off towards the grocery section in search of pie.

When Sam found him, Dean was holding on to a cardboard box containing an apple pie. He gently placed the box in the cart.

"Okay. Now you've got your pie. Let's go get the other things we need."

"You said I could have ice cream, too."

"But it'll melt. And you don't want to get it all over the car, do you?"

"But you _said!_" Dean nearly whined, looking absolutely crushed for a fraction of a second.

"You've got your pie. Let's get the other things we need, then we can go find your...your doll."

"Miss Rose? Can we get her a new dress? Pretty please?" His eyebrows arched high as he stared up at Sam, practically bouncing on his toes.

The toy department was back by the automotive department, so Sam guessed it was kind of on the way anyway. He couldn't even begin to think about how strange his night had become, not to mention how crazy and awkward it was to be standing at the end of a doll aisle in Wal-Mart while Dean - _Dean!_ - carefully perused the doll dresses to find the one that best suited Miss Rose. Sam took out his phone and called Bobby wanting to relay what his theory was. Halfway through the conversation, he glanced down the aisle towards Dean, but his brother was no longer there.

Sam pushed the cart down to the next aisle, immediately shocked and disturbed by what he saw there. "Uh...Bobby? Gonna have to call you back." Sam hit the 'END' button on his phone, but didn't put it away. "Dean? What are you _doing?_"

Atop Dean's head was a pink, sparkly tiara, a pink feather boa was wrapped loosely around his neck, and he'd somehow managed to fit himself into a dress-up tutu. "I'm a princess," Dean told Sam matter-of-factly.

Sam thumbed the camera button on the side of his phone. "No, I think you'd be considered a _queen_." He aimed the lens of his camera phone at his brother and zoomed in. "Can you give me a big smile?"

Dean obeyed, grinning hugely, twirling the ends of his boa.

"Now you've gotta put it all back, okay?"

This time, Dean really did pout. "I don't want to. I want to be a princess."

"Put it back."

Dean stamped a foot. "_No!_"

"Then no pie."

Dean threw his head back. "You're _so mean_. I _hate_ you."

Sam pressed the save button on his phone even as Dean started to unwind the boa. "Not yet, you don't."

Dean shoved everything onto a mid-level shelf before he took a doll dress off one of the nearby display hooks and threw it into the cart.

**oxo**

Dean had eaten a third of the way through the pie by the time they made it back on to Rover Hill, and the street was, thankfully, completely empty of squad cars.

Sam and Dean had just entered the front door of Castle Storage when Sam's cell rang. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a grin as he answered. "Hey, Bobby. You get that text I sent you?"

"Your brother's gonna maim you when he finds out about this."

Sam just laughed. "Come on, Bobby. There was no way I could pass that up. He was wearing a _crown_ and a _tutu._ And he said he was a _princess_. It was hilarious and disturbing all at the same time."

"I bet."

"But I've gotta get _Dean_ back – he tried to braid my hair when we were in the car. Any idea how? Can we just destroy the doll?"

"You could, but it might leave Dean just how he is. I'm guessing there's a binding symbol somewhere on it and once you remove that or break it in some way, whatever is effecting Dean will stop."

Sam opened the door to John's unit and he and Dean carefully made their way inside, Sam leading the way into the back.

"Miss Rose!" Dean exclaimed, snatching the doll up from the shelf.

"Can I see her a moment?" Sam asked, holding a hand out towards his brother. "This isn't gonna effect me, too, is it?" he asked Bobby.

Bobby hesitated a little while longer than Sam was comfortable with.

"Bobby? I don't want to end up like Dean."

"But if Dean's change happened after he fell asleep, we shouldn't have anything to worry about. Just don't go to sleep before we figure out what's going on."

"Great." Sam took the doll that Dean held out warily. "Thanks." He turned the doll over, took off her hat, lifted her hair, and, feeling like a creep, peered under the dolls dress for some kind of symbol.

"Did you check under her hair?" Bobby questioned.

"Yeah-"

"I mean _under her hair_. Did you remove the wig completely?"

"Uh, no?" Sam slid the wig off the doll's porcelain head and turned it over to look at the underside – where there was another lock of hair stitched into the cross-threads along with a couple of ancient flower petals. Sam pulled a lighter from the pocket of his jeans and set the wig on fire.

Dean nearly shrieked. "What are you doing to Miss Rose?"

At first, the hair burned orange, thick, acrid smoke roiling off the melting mass on the concrete floor, then the flame flared pink and the wig was gone. Sam looked over at Dean. "Hey. You okay?"

Dean was glancing around the storage unit confusedly. "Didn't we...Didn't we leave?"

"You don't remember what happened?"

Dean shook his head, gaze falling on the wig-less porcelain doll in Sam's hands. "What happened?"

"Cursed doll. Surprise."

"_Sam? Hello?"_ Bobby's voice questioned tinnily from the phone wedged between Sam's forearm and stomach.

"Bobby. Hey. I think it worked. Dean's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. At least until I show him that picture. Thanks again, Bobby."

Dean followed Sam out of the storage unit, watching as Sam tossed the porcelain doll into a dumpster as they left the building, and caught the keys to the Impala when Sam tossed them at him before getting into the car. "What picture?"


End file.
